A Reflective Friday

I was to bed ahead of 9 p.m. last evening ─maybe seven or eight minutes. My younger brother was still not back from wherever he had gone to drink that afternoon, and I had no intention of becoming involved with him for any late T.V.-watching.

We have an enormous number of T.V. series that we follow, and for which sources are located through various 'apps' that I have downloaded into the Android TV Box that only I have the skill here to operate.

So if my brother is not home by 8:30 p.m., I will not involve myself with him ─ he will probably be too drunk to remain conscious anyway, and I will only have to rewatch whatever episode it is that he passes out during.

Anyway, it was too hot to easily sleep ─ especially that early in the evening. I lay atop my bed wearing just my undershorts, and did my best to relax.

Some sleep would come and quickly go again. But ultimately ─ perhaps around 1:20 a.m. ─ I checked the time and decided to rise and soon get busy adding more content into the post I am slowly constructing at one of my six hosted websites.

It was nearing 5:10 a.m. before I was back to my bed.

And I doubt that it was too very much beyond 8:30 a.m. when I was too awake to feel able to easily sleep further.

My brother was already downstairs watching T.V., but I waited until around 10 a.m. before joining him.

Among the shows we were to watch was the series finale of Falling Water. When we watched it, the assumption was that there was to be another season, but I was suspicious and later researched the truth ─ the show was dumped with no explanation offered to resolve the storyline.

I am not going to mention this to my brother. Ultimately, he will forget about the show and likely wonder no more on it. But at least I can now replace the series with another that he has been unable to remain conscious and follow in the evening when his beer-drenched brain cannot achieve focus any longer: Channel Zero.

I had to give up on the series when he passed out during the fourth episode of the first season, so I will commence our viewing with that episode this coming Monday or Tuesday morning when he is sober.

The morning today was overcast, by the way. And just after mid-morning, we even had some short-lived rain. However, by the afternoon, the Sun and heat were back.

Nevertheless, it was a sufficient mix of cloud and Sun in the early afternoon that I felt clear of conscience in seeking a nap while my brother was still in his bedroom having his own bed rest. He was gone for the afternoon when I re-emerged from my bedroom.

I actually felt quite dreadful ─ the nap had witnessed quite a decline in me. But even so, I wanted to gain some benefit from the sunshine that was then prevailing, so attired in just a pair of gym-style shorts, at 3:48 p.m. I began just over 40 minutes sunning my front while I lounged low in a deck- or lawn-chair out on the backyard grass, all the while facing into the Sun.

I want to mention that I have not heard from my wife since the fiasco last afternoon when she texted me from wherever she is staying at Whistler, asking if she could withdraw $200 from my monthly pension income that had been deposited into our chequing account the day before.

She is at Whistler ─ and has been since Saturday ─ ostensibly to try her had at breaking into a new line of work. Her sole skill set has been that of a Thai restaurant worker thus far in her life, and we both want more for her. 

She had claimed that she was going to use the $200 to make a payment toward a $468 GST debt that she mysteriously had.

I apprised her eldest son by making him privy to the sequence of texts, and he proclaimed that he did not believe her. Rather, he believed that she just wanted some further fun money.

He counselled that I should transfer most of my pension from the account into a different one where she could not access it.

And then I guess he related the matter to his younger brother, who has no compunction whatsoever about tearing strips into his mother over her profligate ways.

It seems he must have laid into her, for she texted me in consternation, demanding what I had told him, and that she had not withdrawn the money yet.

I texted back that I had not spoken with him ─ only his older brother. It was the older lad who unleashed the younger one.

Well, by my bedtime, she had still not touched my account, but I have not heard a word from her since that final text of hers. No doubt, she is deeply smarting and probably feeling that we are all aligned against her.

But it lays waste to me within that I cannot wholly support my wife, for I only have my limited retirement pension income to live on.

In weakness, I allowed her to plunge us deeply into debt over the past dozen years. I retired in early April 2011, but she must still work.

I don't want to talk about this.

It is well past 6:30 p.m., and I have some exercising to do yet; and I also want to have a bath. If my brother is not home by 8:30 p.m., I wish to have my path cleared this evening to again seek an early bedtime.

I am hurting. I would love to kill the sensation with some drink, but I must exercise instead.

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Homefront Challenges

As anticipated yesterday, my younger brother was not yet home when I put myself to bed that evening ─ perhaps 9:15 p.m. By then, I had watched an episode each of a couple of T.V. series I follow, and I had a can of strong (8% alcohol) beer that I barely felt due to the oppressive heat.

It is so hard to sleep, yet I was again up by about 1:00 a.m. to soon begin adding content into the post I am developing at one of my six hosted websites.

And I think that it was after 5 a.m. by the time I was back to bed after watering the flower garden in the front yard.

My morning was to commence well before 9 a.m., by which time my brother was watching T.V. However, as usual, I did not go to join him until 10 a.m., by which time I put our Android TV Box into action.

We were to watch our shows until 1:20 p.m. at which time my brother went back to his bedroom to rest up ere leaving for the afternoon to eventually become involved in drinking somewhere again.

I had cooked up an old steak that I had recently found in a very small bowl in the fridge ─ the meat had been folded up until it was about the size of a ground beef patty in diameter.

My wife ─ who has been at Whistler since Saturday, supposedly trying out a job opportunity ─ was likely responsible for the meat, but her eldest son professed that he knew nothing of it.

So I texted her yesterday and learned that it was indeed meat she had left in the fridge, and she further claimed that she had told that same son to cook it.

She speculated that by now it might not be safe to eat.

Well, I slow-cooked it this morning; and after my brother sought his bed rest, I ate at least half of it. I feel quite fine thus far.

Anyway, after that meal, I spent just over 40 minutes sunning my back as I lay prone on a pad on our backyard sundeck while I was clad in just a pair of gym-style shorts.

Meantime, I was texted by my wife ─ I have a dreadful time reading anything on the screen of my iPhone 5 when it is brilliantly sunny outside. I finally had to disengage myself from the excruciating exchange and wait until my nearly completed sunning session was done.

I found my brother to have already gone when I came into the house.

My wife had asked if she could withdraw $200 from our chequing account ─ it is comprised of my pension income that just arrived yesterday.

When I exclaimed that I would be broke earlier than usual if she started doing this already, she seemed to get testy:

Fine, you keep it then

So I asked if it was an emergency.

She then said that it was a payment toward a $464 GST debt which she is trying to pay off.

I further questioned this because she does not have a business ─ I couldn't understand how she could have a GST debt.

Well, I got no clear explanation, so I just said that it was okay, but I would let her eldest son "know later today so he can start putting aside some money for next month's mortgage."

Once my pension money runs out, he and his brother have to make up the account's mortgage shortfall.

She replied that it was a good idea.

However, what I did was let him read the sequence of texts. And he emphatically declared that he did not believe that she had any GST debt ─ she just wanted fun money.

He even said to not let her have the money; and to transfer most of my pension into a different account where she would not be able to access it. 

And then he must have talked to his younger brother, who has no problem launching into attacks upon his mother for her profligate ways. Suddenly, my wife texted me:

Hi I didn't take any money from ur account yet, what did you told [her youngest son]!!!

So I explained that I never spoke to him ─ only the older lad. It was he who must have informed his younger brother.

I further explained what the older lad had counselled me to do with my pension to keep it from her. But I said to take the $200 if she truly did have to make a debt payment; and I then said:

I want to help you if you need it, but anything I do seems like it will be the wrong choice

That was over 2¾ hours ago, and I have not heard anything more from her. I haven't checked the account, though.

I bloody hate living like this ─ dependent upon help each month from her two sons because my pension is so damned inadequate. And of course, I have always longed to be able to provide for my wife so that she never has to work, but I weakly allowed her to rack up so much debt that I will die in it without a financial miracle.

However, time is running out for me ─ in less than 2½ months, I will turn 71 years of age. Already I am losing so much of my body's faculties far too swiftly. Soon, there will be no pulling out of the physical decline I am now in ─ no matter how much money I might miraculously come into.

I still know virtually nothing of what she is doing at Whistler. And today, I saw in her Facebook account that she had posted a myriad of selfies taken at a location she cited was Lost Lake.

I never did get into any sunning of my front this afternoon. I had forgotten yesterday that my cellphone was running out of power; and this afternoon when I was involved in texting with my wife outside, I saw the warning again.

Thus, when I came into the house, I had my cellphone recharging almost from scratch. By the time it was complete, the Sun had progressed too far ─ there was not enough sunshine in the backyard for any sunning. The Sun was bathing the front of the house.

Gosh, it is approaching 8 p.m. I must publish this post and have some supper so that I can be ready to hie myself to bed if my brother is not home by 8:30 p.m., the deadline I have for him. I will not sit up and operate our Android TV Box if we have not already begun by that time ─ I hate late evenings.

And I cannot trust that he will have sufficient senses remaining to not pass out when I am sacrificing my time tuning in our shows.

Consequently, it is best that I have nothing to do with him after 8:30 p.m.

What a sucking life I lead. 

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Fairmont Chateau Whistler: Two Comparison Photos

Although I was almost caught unawares early last evening when my brother arrived home no later than 8:40 p.m., I managed to hightail it upstairs before he got into the house. I was not going to become embroiled in a late evening of T.V.-watching with him, having to operate our Android TV Box to locate sources for episodes of some of the series we follow.

I admit that I did momentarily weaken, for I have 8:30 p.m. as his unspoken deadline for arriving home. But then I recollected that a deadline has a purpose ─ it is the point in time where an arbitrary line has been drawn. If eight or nine minutes past the deadline can be forgiven, then why not 10 or 15 minutes? Or a half hour?

So I steeled myself, and was into my bed by 8:45 p.m.

As usual, sleep had little interest in me.

Over the next very few hours I was to acquire a wee bit by way of stints of naps, but I was awake at midnight and listening for my brother to betake himself to his bedroom for the night. I think that it was around 12:10 a.m. when he did so.

I was feeling very poorly-slept, but I rose anyway. And anon, I was again at my nightly chore of adding content into the post that is so very slowly being constructed at one of my six hosted websites.

I may have made it back to bed by around 4:30 a.m. after first watering the flower garden in the front yard.

Sleep continued to be extremely difficult to capture, but I remained abed until nearly 9 a.m. if I am recalling aright. My brother was by then already downstairs watching T.V.

I remained upstairs until near 10 a.m. before going down to start boiling water for my day's first delicious hot caffeinated beverage, and then I joined my brother and put our Android TV Box into action until around 1 p.m. when it was time for my brother's bed rest ere he set off in the early afternoon to catch a bus and hook up with at least one of his drinking buddies at a pub rendezvous.

I think they typically bus to this rendezvous, for they tend to do some serious drinking when they get together like this, and both of them have lost their driver's licence in the past after being found out by the police.

It is a very expensive and extremely lengthy experience.

Anyway, while my brother was resting, I went out onto the backyard sundeck and sunned my back for just over 40 minutes while clad in just a pair of gym-style shorts.

I then returned into the house for my day's first of the two small meals that I will have today. I was eating here at my computer when my brother emerged from his bedroom, and soon he took his leave.

It was 3:07 p.m. when I started my next session of sunning ─ again, just over 40 minutes ─ slouched low in a deck- or lawn-chair, my bared feet on the grass while I endured the brilliance of the hot Sun on my face with my eyes clamped as tightly shut as possible.

And then I came into the house to begin work on posts in both my private and this public blog.

Yesterday I posted some photos of my wife, who is currently at Whistler, supposedly trying her hand at some new employment venture in an effort to get away from just being a Thai restaurant worker.

One of those photos had as a backdrop the resort hotel Fairmont Chateau Whistler.

Well, today Google Photos notified me that it had created an enhanced companion photo from that image. Have you a preference between the two?

Here they are ─ the original image is the first in this comparison:

I prefer the original ─ I like colour.

My brother isn't likely to be home this side of 9 p.m., but I have not napped this afternoon, and I still have an exercise session ahead of me. I am going to need to lie down and rest for awhile before tackling it ─ it is a hot, hot day. And of course, I have been sunning for over an hour and 20 minutes this afternoon.

So I am going to close here ─ 6 p.m. is nigh.

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My Wife at Whistler

Holy cow! I have just checked my AdSense account and discovered that yesterday it accrued 40¢.

That won't seem like much to many people, but usually when I check my balance, there has been no activity for days at a time ─ not even a cent. So 40¢ is more than I typically earn in an earnings period covering several entire months!

But that's my only good news.

My brother continues to arrive home too late for me to care to wait up and watch T.V. with him ─ I operate our Android TV Box.

Last evening mirrored the evening before ─ he was not home until around 9:10 p.m. from wherever he had been drinking. And since I was upstairs here at my computer, upon hearing him entering the house, I quickly betook myself to bed.

But it was so hot in the bedroom! I lay uncovered, clad only in my undershorts, but sleep was far, far too difficult ─ I could not handle heat like that being my bedtime norm.

It was probably around 1:30 a.m. when I eventually checked the time and then rose to put further work into the post I have on the go at one of my six hosted websites. However, unlike the previous night, I did not get diverted into other involvements (apart from watering the flower garden in the front yard), and so I was back in bed ahead of 5 a.m.

After a little further hard-won sleep, I think I was finished with it by about 8 a.m. There was some impetus in that regard because today's scheduled exercising session was to be out in the backyard toolshed ─ it would probably be impossibly hot by the p.m. in that shed, so I needed to try and rally enough to tackle it while it was yet fairly early in the morning.

As it was to happen, my brother was accommodating in this by not emerging from his bedroom until around 10 a.m. By then, I had finished exercising and was back in the house and changed into my usual clothes.

I had gone out to the shed around 9:30 a.m.

Anyway, that cleared up my day!

Once my brother was downstairs and had the T.V. on, I joined him and put our Android TV Box into action until 1:10 p.m. or so. At that point, he was set for some more bed rest in preparation for his usual departure for the afternoon to eventually end up drinking somewhere.

I wanted to do some sunning, even though the sky was often hazed right over ─ things were a wee bit cooler than they have been through the previous three days. Unfortunately, I dallied longer than I should have.

I was to put in just over 40 minutes sunning my back as I lay prone upon a pad, and then I came into the house for my day's first small meal. I found that my brother had already gone.

It was already the mid-afternoon, yet I decided to seek a nap before sunning my front.

Once I was somewhat restored with the bit of additional sleep, I changed to have that sunning even though it was after 4:30 p.m. by that time.

Alas, I went downstairs only to discover that my eldest stepson was in the backyard 'weed-eating' as preparatory work before mowing the back and then the front lawns. There was to be no sunning of my front today.

But enough of this banal talk.

Since Saturday, my wife has been in Whistler trying to establish herself with some outfit that provides certain services for a hotel there. Exactly what it is that this outfit does, I am unclear.

A friend of hers encouraged her to go for it ─ the friend reportedly works for that outfit, and earns something like $25 an hour.

I want desperately for my wife to get herself recognized for more than just being a Thai restaurant worker ─ she is 47 years old, and has no retirement pension of her own that she is building towards as yet.

I would like to see her become self-sufficient in life, and free me up from feeling responsible for her overall welfare. To be honest, I would like to be free to put an end to myself before too many more years. I am declining rapidly ─ vision, hearing, and so many other functions, at least a couple of which that I do not wish to identify, let alone discuss.

Anyway, I have downloaded some photos from her Facebook account that she has just posted ─ I tripled them in size after downloading them.

I am guessing that she is probably stationed at whatever hotel is behind her in this photo that she took of herself and posted yesterday:

And today, she posted this:

And there is this further sequence at that pool ─ I don't know what it is in the water that has her attention:

I was able to do some research with that very first photo, and the impressive structure beyond my wife is the Fairmont Chateau Whistler. But whether that is where my wife is actually working, or staying, I cannot answer.

Are those two swimming pools part of the Fairmont Chateau Whistler as well? I do not know.

There was something that I had intended to point out, but I now have reconsidered ─ perhaps I will bring it up again once her tenure at Whistler is ended.

I only want to say that it is very unpleasant finding oneself having to live solely out of financial responsibility to a dependant. I long to be free to just...go.

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Heat Wave Day Three

It was after 9:15 p.m. last evening when I heard my younger brother arriving home and coming into the house from wherever he had been drinking ─ I was upstairs here at my computer, so I smartly betook myself to bed to avoid him.

Sleep was tardy to make its arrival, and I am sure the heat was not helping the advent.

Ultimately, I was awake enough to be wondering on the time ere it was yet 2 a.m.; and after checking, I rose to put further work into the post I am so very slowly developing at one of my six hosted websites.

I was to also chop up three or four organic beetroots and their stalks, as well as most of an organic cluster of celery stalks. These were all chopped into a small bucket, and I then added water sufficient to slightly more than cover the whole.

Then I liberally salted the top chunks of vegetables with Himalayan salt, and the covered bucket is now set aside for its contents to naturally ferment.

I'll give it a good stir after two days, and then daily from thereon. It ought to be sour enough to begin eating in five or so days.

Pre- and probiotics at their best!

In addition to all of this work, I also watered the front yard flower garden.

I even did a wee bit of work in setting up the most recent of the streaming 'apps' that I now have downloaded into our Android TV Box ─ an 'app' called Media Lounge. I learned of it through a YouTuber calling himself BudgetLife. I think he may be the only YouTuber to whom I subscribe.

Anyway, it was after 6 a.m. before I returned to bed, somewhat agitated that it had grown so late into the morning. I was going to have to be joining my younger brother at 10 a.m. to put our Android TV Box into use (he is unskilled in its operation).

Believe it or not, I was up once again no later than 9 a.m., and I had been awake awhile before that. I feared the worst insofar as the rest of my day was concerned, but I was never to feel as poorly-slept as I was dreading I would.

I had a movie in mind for my brother and myself at 10 a.m. ─ a 2015 Russian / Ukrainian feature called Battle for Sevastopol.

I had recently read about female sniper Lyudmila Pavlichenko, and then learned of this movie. Actress Yulia Peresild did a superb job of portraying Lyudmila, but I have little doubt that Yulia had it well over Lyudmila where 'good looks' are concerned.

But that's just about always the case with biographical movies, isn't it?

My only complaint about the movie was that the subtitles were far too small. I had to take a chair and sit less than half the distance from the T.V. than I would otherwise have sat ─ and I still missed a lot of the dialogue because the lettering was in white and sometimes was too difficult to follow on certain lighter backgrounds.

I would like to try and watch other features in which Yulia Peresild acted, but my brother is picky about this sort of thing ─ especially where foreign films and their subtitles are concerned.

This movie was an exception.

I was to get in my sunning on this third day of an official current heat wave, but first I had a small meal following the T.V.-viewing with my brother which ended around 12:50 p.m. He had retired to his bedroom for some rest, but I had the meal before I sought my own nap.

He was gone for the afternoon when I emerged from my bedroom afterwards.

And then came the sunning ─ just over 40 minutes for both my back and then my front while clad in just a pair of gym-style shorts.

My wife ─ who has been at Whistler since Saturday in the hope of getting hired there ─ may have had her first day in a suitability trial today.

She texted me twice ─ once, of course, when I was involved with the movie and trying to follow its subtitles.

And then again toward the tail end of my sunning. I cannot read the screen of my iPhone 5 on sunny days, and it is impossible for my wretched eyes to use the texting keyboard to reply. In frustration, I had to put my phone down and wait out the final minutes of my sunning, and then I came into the house to follow up on the texts.

It is presently already after 8:30 p.m. ─ my brother's unspoken deadline to arrive home if he expects me to sit up and operate our Android TV Box for the evening.

Since I must have myself all set to hie myself to bed once he does get home, I have to bring this post to a close.

First, though, I want to post this collage that Google Photos created today of some photos of mine that I took on this day back in 2014:

I was on a stretch of Surrey railway tracks that lies between the crossing you can see at this Google Map depicting the intersection of Holt Road & 88th Avenue, and the intersection at 128th Street & 76th Avenue shown on this Google map.

I have trod that stretch of track since as far back as the latter 1960s, but in the latter 1980s and through most of the 1990s I spent untold hours hanging out there ─ usually with my late friend Larry Ernest Blue ─ soaking up the sunshine and drinking. We would usually cycle there on our mountain bikes.

So back in 2014, I revisited that section of tracks again to reminisce.

These are the four original photos:

Larry was the last friend that I had who lived anywhere near me. With his passing in January 2011 of cancer, I no longer had a friend whom I could visit and just talk with.

I miss him.

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A Walk-Free Sunday

Things sure don't always go as planned, do they?

I made it to bed by 10:30 p.m. last evening, for my younger brother was to remain with his girlfriend Bev and stayed overnight at her home.

The plan for me was to get away early this morning for a lengthy walk.

Alas, I slept in most fractured and unsatisfying fashion. And I truly do believe that the fault lay with the fact that I felt exceptionally well-slept all yesterday afternoon and evening ─ a rare state for me.

Thus, upon retiring last evening, my old frame ─ i.e., me ─ felt no need yet for slumber at that point. Perhaps I should have had a can of beer that evening.

Whatever the case, before 1:30 a.m. I was so very awake that I was considering rising to put some work into the post that I am very slowly developing at one of my six hosted websites. However, I had concern that it was too early ─ by dawn, I would probably be too sleepy to feel like heading off on any long walk.

So I sought to fall into one further block of sleep.

Before it was quite 2 a.m., I realized that any block of sleep was a long, long ways off. I was just wasting time laying there in bed.

So I did rise.

I always have a set minimum quantity of content that I require of myself for any one day when it comes to working on one of my website posts, so I had that target before me. Unfortunately for me, I am vulnerable to distractions that set me off researching something unrelated to the post; or else I will happen upon an article that I cannot resist reading.

Both of those distractions were in play this early a.m.

The consequence was that by the time I had finished my work on the post and gotten myself dressed for the hike, it was 5:50 a.m. when I actually set off.

I only walked the distance of maybe three homes ─ the houses on this street are almost immediate to each other, so it was not far at all. All resolve for the walk had by then fled from me. 

Already the day was bright and the sky clearly blue. I knew that other people would be out wandering around, and it was only going to become worse. I was feeling quite sleepy, and I realized that I lacked the inner reserves to cope with the stress that would accumulate of encountering other people and, of course, the street traffic. The round trip I had in mind would probably be at least 6.75 miles.

My confidence collapsed ─ I didn't have it in me ─ I couldn't do it.

I am by nature quite reclusive. As a teen and young man, I was socially withdrawn and lacking all confidence in such interactions. All of my adult life, I have craved an environment of solitude and peace where I could freely roam without having to have that serenity of spirit and mind intruded upon by the unwanted advent of anyone else.

But I have nothing like that. All I have are seemingly limitless miles of City of Surrey streets, buildings and homes, and people everywhere.

I do not drive. I can only walk. And when I open my home's front door, I am immediately visible from the windows of no less than six other homes ─ should anyone be looking out any of those windows.

I might even venture to say that for every step of my intended walk, I would never have been out of the potential sight of someone somewhere.

What reflective calm is possible for someone of my lifelong troubled temperament?

None is possible ─ not really.

So yes, I became suddenly disheartened at the prospect of what was ahead, and I surrendered in defeat.

I needed to have left before the arrival of dawn. If I had been deep into my walk when day broke, then I could have managed and coped. But I could not do it with the inadequate sleep that I had accumulated ─ I could not throw myself into the broad public day that was out there without the fortification of a bracing night's sleep.

Even then, it would not have been an attractive prospect.

So I have lost the weekend. I have walked nowhere at all.

And I am unlikely to do any walking during the week because of my sense of obligation to my brother. On weekdays, at 10 a.m. I operate our Android TV Box to locate episodes of some of the T.V. series we follow, for he has no facility with the device.

We tend to watch T.V. until around 1 p.m.

I would be in a fell state if I had gone on some dreadfully early hike and then come home with no hope of a good nap until the early afternoon.

So I more or less sacrifice the weekdays, but I reserve the weekends for just myself.

I failed myself on this one, nevertheless ─ I achieved nothing by way of any wholesome walking.

Yet despite being quite sleepy, I never made a return to bed until something like 8:30 a.m. And as is usual with these naps, I probably was not in bed for a full 1½ hours.

My brother was home and shut up in his own bedroom when I emerged from mine. He usually sleeps poorly when he stays with his girlfriend due to the poor thing's smoker's cough; and he likely drank more than he would usually have done had he just come home from the bar or pub after he had gotten her home.

At this moment it is 12:36 p.m., so I am going to take a break to continue with my day ─ I have some backyard sunning in immediate store.

oooooooooooooo

It is now nearly 6:30 p.m., and I wish to phone Sandra, a longstanding lady friend of a very old friend of mine who has been in a Vancouver Island full-time care facility for a few years ─ mostly bedridden.

She had texted me late this morning about someone's passing ─ a possible relative of my friend Bill's.

Since Sandy is my only means of learning about matters relating to Bill, I try to occasionally keep in touch with her.

Anyway, I did get in my sunning. First ─ beginning late in the noon hour ─ I put in just over 40 minutes stretched out prone on a pad on the backyard sundeck while I was attired in just a pair of gym-style shorts.

And then I came into the house to have my day's first small meal, discovering that my younger brother had already left for the afternoon.

My next session of sunning commenced just prior to mid-afternoon. Seated low in a deck- or lawn-chair, and with my bared feet on the ground, I faced directly into the Sun for just over yet another 40 minutes.

When that was over with, I had to come into the house and succumb to a needed nap, putting in something over an hour in bed yet again. However, the nap was deep.

Yesterday my wife posted some photos to her Facebook account ─ photos that I downloaded and then enlarged to three times their size using the free service Online-Convert.com.

As yet I do not know if the photos were taken that day, or if they were perhaps taken within the past week or two. However, they all feature her with her eldest son, who is 25 years old, and something of a 'gym rat'.

Obviously someone else took the photos ─ maybe her youngest son?

My wife can be quite the clown where her boys are concerned, and has no shame whatsoever trying to present her own thin arms as if they were any kind of match for her brawny older boy's!

That reminds me that I still have a little exercising of my own to do before making that call to Sandy, so I had best get the activity out of the way now.

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Emotional Breakdown and a Mysterious Resurrection

Although I was to get to bed early last evening as a result of my younger brother arriving home 'late' from wherever he was drinking (i.e., he was not home by the unspoken 8:30 p.m. deadline that I have in place for him), I was thwarted in my hope of getting away extremely early this morning for a good, long walk.

It must have been nigh midnight when I became aware that the lamp beside my wife's side of the bed had been turned on, and the bedroom door was partially open.

It has been so very many months since my wife was last home on a Friday night that I cannot even recall it. She typically spends her weekends somewhere in Vancouver (such is our sorry marriage) and does not even come home at all after she finishes working on Fridays at her friend's Thai restaurant.

I was wearing earplugs and a bandana blindfold, so I continued to lay in bed as if asleep, wondering if maybe she had perhaps only come home for a change of clothes and was to be off again to attend some party.

Whatever she was doing involved ongoing rummaging, rustling, and associated noises that would stop, and then start back up in short order. 

When I finally became restless with the waiting, at one of those breaks in noise I peeked from beneath my blindfold and saw that I was alone in the bedroom, and it was into the latter half of the midnight hour.

My brother would of course have retired into his bedroom for the night before this.

So I hurriedly rose and dressed, and then came downstairs. I descended just in time to see my wife coming into the house from a possible trip out to her car, but she was in her housecoat.

She mumbled an explanation to me for her presence, but all I could catch were the words "visit" and "tomorrow".

She becomes inordinately upset with me if I fail to hear her every utterance ─ she seems to impute fault upon me for her rather heavily Thai-accented English; so I merely said, "Oh?"

And then I also seized upon the word "visit" with an equally querulous tone in the hope that this would elicit some further explanatory dialogue from her, but all I got was a confirming, "Yes."

So I know nothing more as I type these words at 9:56 a.m.

I remained up until fairly near to 4 a.m., putting work into the post I am constructing at one of my six hosted websites. My wife went to bed about an hour after I first rose, but we had no further conversation.

She is still in bed ─ I rose around 8:45 a.m. My brother has been downstairs, but I have yet to betake myself below ─ my computer is upstairs in a small room next to my bedroom, so I have been here since rising.

The day appears to be a sunny one, so I am going to soon go outside and sit in the sunshine. But now, I shall take a break from this post.

oooooooooooooo

My wife emerged from our bedroom just after 10 a.m. and went downstairs while I was still here in the room with my computer ─ I had just changed into a pair of cutoffs and a sleeveless hoodie.

I then also went downstairs, but had no communication with my wife. I went straight out into the backyard to sit in a lawn- or deckchair while facing into the fairly early-morning Sun. By then, it may have been 10:16 a.m.

I was to remain out there for just over 40 minutes, wondering what was going on with my wife ─ where was she going?

Was it possible that she was plunging us further into debt by taking a flight to visit her sister in Italy, or maybe fly back to Thailand to visit her mother?

Or could she be bound for Vancouver Island ─ she does know a Thai woman over there from back in her village.

She also knows another such woman somewhere in the States ─ the Eastern States, I believe.

Right around 11:04 a.m., the sundeck screen door slid open slightly, and my wife extended out a waving hand while vocalizing a goodbye, announcing that she was now leaving.

I stirred to get myself up, but she called out not to bother ─ her eldest son was right there, she indicated. I suppose she thought that I was intending to come in to help her with her luggage or whatever she was taking.

But was the lad going to be driving her to the airport in her car, and then bring the car back here?

I heard her call a goodbye to my brother who was still watching T.V. in the living room, and then I guess she was gone.

I finished my time outside ─ less than 15 more minutes. And then I came back into the house, deeply disturbed emotionally.

I had no desire to speak with my brother, so I came directly upstairs, and then sought my bed to see if I might manage to escape my pain and find some unconsciousness in a nap. I suppose that I did eventually manage it, but there were so many tears first.

I felt so damned alone. Even God makes my life undesirable by refusing to lend any help. All I have is crushing debt.

If not for my familial responsibilities of a financial nature ─ I am worth far, far more to my wife alive through my monthly pensions than I ever would be dead ─ I felt myself just about at that point where I might have been able to 'pull the plug' and bring a full end to myself.

It even occurred to me that I am so profoundly disappointed with God and his perpetual inertia where concerns delivering me from the evils I am so very helpless against, that I had no desire to ever live again if I ended myself.

In truth, I would not want eternal life if it meant that I had to exist around the Monster who stood by while I grew to become more and more unhappy with my very existence here on Earth ─ He who could have lifted a finger to thereby bring the joyousness that is lacking in my pointless, barren life and my sorry, broken marriage.

I don't think that I was abed too much beyond an hour, but what nap I was to eventually manage (following the copious tears) did restore me emotionally. I felt more myself again.

When I exited my bedroom, I saw that my brother was shut up in his own in apparent pursuit of some further bed rest.

I had not yet had my day's first hot caffeinated beverage, so I went downstairs to boil water and prepare the luscious drink. And then I came back here to put work into a post at my private blog.

My brother soon emerged again from his bedroom. He was expecting a phone call around 1 p.m. for his second-to-last or penultimate session in the Responsible Driver Program that he is mandated to get through:

The Responsible Driver Program (RDP) is a remedial program for drivers who have received alcohol or drug related prohibitions. Stroh Health Care, as the service provider for the Province of B.C., delivers the program to drivers referred to the RDP by the Superintendent of Motor Vehicles.

I think my brother has only been slotted into the eight-hour (and not the 16-hour) program; and due to SARS-CoV-2 social distancing and the related lockdowns, he has only needed to have these one-on-one sessions by telephone with a counsellor.

Supposedly each call represents the equivalence of a two-hour group session if such were still being instituted, but I don't think my brother's calls ever come near to being an hour in duration.

And now he has just one more ─ in two weeks.

So he had that call, and then around 1:40 p.m. headed away for the afternoon.

I wanted to lay out on the sundeck and expose my back to the Sun for a full 40 minutes, but I wanted to have a small first meal of my day.

In getting it together, I finally had a chance to speak with my eldest stepson, so I asked him where it was that his mother went. She drove, by the way.

There was no air flight involved. Rather, she had been beguiled by a friend to try her hand at Whistler with a company that handles the general upkeep of hotels ─ my stepson only had the weakest notion of what was involved, but he thought that maybe it entailed things like carrying baggage and furnishings, along with various maintenance touch-ups, and maybe even some cabinetry and painting.     

As I said, his knowledge of what she was trying to get into was nebulous.

He believed that the friend worked for that company, and possibly even had some involvement in running it or even its ownership. At any rate, whomever that person was, his or her hourly wage was something like $25 ─ supposedly, my wife could possibly earn similarly if she was 'up to snuff' or 'passed muster'.

So she has gone to try her hand at this work, and maybe break away from only being a Thai restaurant worker.

If all goes well, she might be away for nine or 10 days. But if reality proves to have far less lustre than the scenario she was spun by her friend, then my wife will undoubtedly be back far sooner.

I dearly hope that my wife can succeed in this venture if such is possible, for it I want her to have more to her employable skill-set than just restaurant work. She is 47 years old, and has no pension of her own that she is building towards ─ just the inadequate Canada Pension that she could feasibly start drawing at the age of 60, and then the Old Age Security Pension after that once she reaches the age of 65.

Without me and my current pensions (I clear something over $2,300 per month, and I have her covered for full health and dental care), she would be heavily reliant upon her two sons to help her retain a decent standard of living.

Anyway, the talk with my stepson definitely made me feel much better about my hardworking wife ─ that she would undertake something as unfamiliar as this at her stage in life. I want the best for her.

But not all has been good this afternoon.

I did go back outside for some further sunning. I got in just over 40 minutes sunning my back on the sundeck; and then I put in an additional 25 minutes reclined in that lawn- or deckchair on the lawn, but this time without the sleeveless top.

However, while I was out there, I received a cellphone call that I didn't answer because the number was unfamiliar to me. There was even a voicemail.

I waited until I returned into the house before checking out the latter ─ supposedly, the call was from  one of the financial institutions my wife and I are in debt to.

I deleted the message and the phone number, but then I got curious ─ it was the same bank that handles the house mortgage, which was supposedly debited from our chequing account on July 22nd.

At that time, I had to scramble to ensure that the expected $1,800 debit would be covered, and had ended up having something like $1,802 and change in the account to meet the anticipated mortgage hit.

Well, I checked the account. I had been wrong about the amount of the mortgage ─ it was to have been $1,854. The debit failed, and thus the mortgage has not been paid.

And now with the NSF charge from the different banking institution where the chequing account is, the account is practically $100 short for the mortgage.

I alerted my eldest stepson, for I will not have any money until my monthly pension shows up sometime this coming week. He has since transferred over $100 to the account, which now should have 9¢ more than is needed to meet the mortgage debit ─ if the other financial institution makes another effort to acquire it.

I cannot return the bank's call to alert them that the funds are now present in the account because I deleted the message and the phone number from my cellphone.

So now I have this weighing on me.

Oddly enough, though, I'm not as down or despondent about it as I would have been at any other point in the past week. I think that for a change, I have finally acquired a sufficient quota of sleep.

Whatever the reason for this equanimity, I wish to heck that it could remain with me.

I've even had the day's scheduled exercise session at the tail end of the afternoon ─ I didn't even approach it begrudgingly. It was a session performed in my bedroom.

Right now it is nearly 7 p.m., and I have been home alone for quite some time. I am going to see about squeezing in an episode or two of one or two of the T.V. series I follow, and get my supper out of the way.

Maybe I will be able to have an early evening of it ─ this depends upon whether my brother shows up by 8:30 p.m. Even 8:31 p.m. will be a minute too late ─ I will not involve myself with him for an evening of T.V. (I am the sole one of us able to operate our Android TV Box).

It would be grand to feel as emotionally stable on the morrow as I do right now.

And holy smoke! I just discovered that I actually earned $1.80 through Amazon U.S. as a commission for a product someone bought through one of my affiliate links. The product was the Thai-English Student’s Dictionary.

I have not earned any affiliate income from Amazon in several years. In truth, my account has never climbed high enough to merit a payout. Likely it never will, for I'm 70 years old. I'll probably have departed existence before a payout ever happens.

But it's definitely nice having the day end with that tiny positive note.

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A Subpar Friday

Despite what I claimed here yesterday, I did not retire to bed early last evening when my younger brother did not arrive home by 8:30 p.m.

I had claimed that even 8:31 p.m. was too late as far as I am concerned ─ I would not sit up with him and operate our Android TV Box to locate episodes of some of the T.V. series we follow.

Well, it was approximately 8:34 p.m. when I saw him arriving.

However, at that time, my wife was occupying our bedroom ─ I had no refuge to which I could escape association with my brother. Had she not been home and in the bedroom, I would have held to my resolution.

Fortunately, he was to prove to be in unexpectedly good shape insofar as his drinking was concerned, so it did work out for the best. But I was to not get to bed until at least midnight, by which time my wife had preceded me.

I was to sleep ill, and in what seemed exceptionally short periods even for me. Nevertheless, I compelled myself to remain abed until in the neighbourhood of 7:00 a.m. before finally rising to put work into the post I am developing at one of my six hosted websites.

I also wanted to try and get the day's scheduled exercising out of the way as soon as possible, for it involved activity out in the backyard toolshed. If I could clear that obligation out of the way, then I would be free to have my day's first meal earlier than usual. Also, I just don't like always having to deal with the toolshed workout in the afternoon.

To that end, I boiled up some water in order to have a cup of hot, black instant coffee.

I was to have the exercise, but even though I skipped working out at all yesterday, I felt myself to be overtrained. In addition, my shoulder joints severely felt punished, and limited me in the performance of one specific exercise because they were clearly being threatened with potential damage.

They bother me still.

But it was good to be done with the workout.

My brother never appeared from his bedroom until after 9 a.m.

And then after I had gone downstairs not 10 minutes ahead of 10 a.m. to put on water to boil for my day's first fully-doctored hot caffeinated beverage (and to then join my brother for some T.V. via our Android TV Box), my wife came downstairs complaining that she couldn't sleep ─ and looking the full proof of that claim, poor thing.

She would have to leave us later in the morning for her rather long drive to put in a day's work at her friend's Thai restaurant.

However, she did some cooking for the household before she went back upstairs to shower.

And I do not expect to be seeing her again until probably at least Monday ─ she tends to spend her weekends somewhere in Vancouver (such is our poor marriage).

Yesterday and today have been mostly cloudy, so I have not felt obligated to be doing any sunning. Yet this morning was the only time we have had any needed rain ─ we had a shower of sufficient duration to generally wet everything. This was just before I had my toolshed exercise.

I understand that the weekend is supposed to be sunny once more.

Anyway, back to my morning watching T.V. with my brother.

We watched an episode of America's Got Talent; and then he surprised me by announcing that he was going out to get a haircut. It was only around 11:30 a.m.

This was very good for me. It meant that I no longer had to waste time watching T.V. with my brother (I am the only one of us who understands the operation of our Android TV Box).

So I had my meal; and then ere it was yet 12:30 p.m., I was back into bed seeking a nap. I needed it. Earlier ─ right around 10 a.m. when I was first watching T.V. with my brother ─ I had to weather the beginnings of a migraine aura or halo.

The swirling didn't develop above my lower field of vision, fortunately, and may not have lasted more than 15 or 20 minutes. However, it has left me feeling subpar. My nap was not as restorative as I need, so I am very much hoping to be able to get to bed early this evening.

My brother left just around 2 p.m. for the afternoon, so it will be good for me if he fails to show up until after his unspoken 8:30 p.m. curfew or deadline. That will give me leave to get to bed early.

My wife phoned me at 3:23 p.m., but I happened to be outside checking a section of our flower garden and never heard her ring. It was only later when I saw that a text from her had arrived at 4:06 p.m.

I didn't return her call, for I supposed that the text basically covered what she wanted to convey ─ mainly, that a pot in the fridge contained a soup that she wanted me to know about for my supper.

So I acknowledged this with a reply.

I want to stop blogging for today ─ my eyes are in the most direly poor condition, and that migraine aura has left me with a vague headache that is compounded when I bend over. The pressure in my skull is most unpleasant.

However, I want to post four photos that I took this afternoon while I was outside missing my wife's phone call.

We have a small rose bush that isn't much more than eight inches tall and which has struggled for several years to survive. I think that I have taken photos if the wee thing every year since my wife planted it.

Well, this year it has currently produced three lovely red blooms, and I see another bud bursting to soon open:

I derive some joy from such small matters as this.

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A Perfunctory Thursday Post

I had no time available yesterday for a post here. However, there was no improvement in terms of my personal immediate economics ─ my wife did not seek to compensate me for the full brunt I took in meeting the shortfall our chequing account was in with the monthly mortgage due to be debited from it on the 21st.

I had gone to bed early the evening of the 21st ─ it wasn't even 9 p.m. In fact, it may have been as early as 8:45 p.m.

My younger brother had just arrived home around 8:38 p.m.; and as I have made clear often enough of late in this blog, I have an unspoken deadline for him of 8:30 p.m. Should he be later than that in making it home from wherever he has been drinking, then I will not become involved with him for an evening of television (I am the only one of us able to operate our Android TV Box).

Confessedly, I did briefly reconsider. After all, he was only eight or so minutes over his unspoken deadline.

But then, why have a deadline if there is no enforcement associated with it?

So I held fast and took temptation or weakness out of the equation by smartly getting myself to bed.

It was not easy finding any sleep ─ it was so hot in the bedroom due to the day's sunshine. And I didn't even strip down. I lay fully clothed atop the bed with the ceiling fan running. As well, I had my eyes covered with a bandana blindfold, and over that I had a cotton hood pulled tight, for I was wearing a sleeveless cotton hoodie overtop a tee-shirt.

I was expecting that my wife was probably going to finally arrive home following her day's work at her friend's Thai restaurant, for she had not been home since late Friday morning.

She tends to spend her weekends somewhere in Vancouver (such is our sorry marriage).

Before I eventually managed to start drifting into any unconsciousness, there came a time when I was aware that my wife had come into the bedroom. She saw, of course, that I was sprawled out on the bed fully clothed, and evidently felt obliged to ask if I was okay after touching my arm to arouse my attention.

I merely spoke that I was ─ and that it was just too hot to be under the covers. At the time, I was prone, having assumed that posture in an effort to attain one that would be comfortable enough to help bring on sleep. I had already lain on my back and on both sides for varying periods of time without any success.

I supposed that my wife had come into the bedroom to probably fetch her housecoat, and that she would likely be sitting up for some while. She often cooks late in the evenings when she is home; and she will also have a meal with her two sons in their den area.

I had not stirred from where I was.

In time, I did indeed begin drifting into a succession of periods of unconsciousness. Then the point came where I was curious enough of the time to have a look ─ it was into the latter midnight hour. My brother should have by then retired to his bedroom for the night. It would be safe for me to rise and soon get to work adding content into the post I am constructing at one of my six hosted websites.

My computer is kept in a small room immediately adjacent to my bedroom. I anticipated that I would find my wife seated there, but the room was vacant. Also, the only lights on downstairs were in the boys' den area.

I could understand the living room light being off, but there should at least have been a light on in the kitchen where my wife would be spending much time.

So I came downstairs, quickly glimpsing that only my eldest stepson seemed to be visible in the boys' den area ─ his headphones were on, and he was staring at the screen of a laptop, quite apparently by himself.

I then checked outside; and sure enough, my wife's car was not here.

I could almost wonder if I had dreamed that she had come into the bedroom and enquired of me my state.

The only conclusion was that she must have had a party to attend, and had come for a change of clothes. Perhaps she would be home anew later on in the night.

Well, it was not to be so. I never returned to bed until around 4:30 a.m.

At best, I probably only managed to remain there for around four hours, and I was then back up and here at my computer. I cannot remember if I preceded my brother's emergence from his bedroom or not, but I often do. As much as he complains about being a poor sleeper, he certainly is no match for me in that area, I would venture.

I never join him until around 10:00 a.m. on weekday mornings ─ that is plenty early for me to be watching any T.V. And typically, we will only catch up on some of our shows until around 1 or 1:30 p.m., for he will by then make a return to his bedroom for some further bed rest ere he leaves for the afternoon to eventually get back into his drinking.

The day was another sunny one, so after he was to his bedroom, I changed into my gym-style shorts and was soon out on the backyard sundeck, my back exposed to the Sun for just over 40 minutes as I lay upon a pad.

I then came back into the house for my day's first meal.

I was probably eating that here at my computer when my brother once more emerged from his bedroom; and soon enough, he announced that he was taking his leave. I had heard him earlier arranging with two of his drinking buddies to rendezvous at a certain pub. Typically, my brother will bus to it, for he understands that he will be engaging considerable drinking and does not care to risk getting pinched again for being behind the wheel while 'under the influence'.

This for me betokened another early bedtime, for he would not likely be home until later into the evening.

I acquired some further sunning ─ just over half an hour for my front this time.

My wife was to arrive back home late in the afternoon. I didn't bring up the mortgage sacrifice I had made that left me broke until sometime next week when my monthly pension shows up ─ I figured that there would be time for her to perhaps broach the topic.

Then perhaps around 8:00 p.m. as I was watching some T.V., I was surprised by her when she made a quick goodbye as she hustled out the front door, clearly headed away for some sort of social entanglement.

Such is my life.

After I later went to bed, I had the usual lengthy delay in any onset of sleep. And when some sleep did come, it always seemed superficial and inadequate.

I became aware eventually that my wife was back home.

Then around 1:30 a.m. after finding myself curious on the time, I rose to put work once again into the website post I have under construction. In emerging from the bedroom, I was not much off from coinciding with my wife as she came upstairs, bound for our bedroom and her own retirement.

She is accustomed to my sleeping patterns, and merely acknowledged what was going on with me by quizzically commenting, "Up?"

And so it was with me, until shortly after 4:00 a.m.

She never had to work today, so she has been home the entire time. I felt that I had to force the time to put in this post, for I don't like missing two consecutive days. Facilitating this choice is the fact that the day has been primarily overcast, so I have not felt obligated to do any sunning.

And since today's scheduled exercise session was one in which I would have to work out in the bedroom, that has had to be abandoned ─ and thus, more blogging time made available.

I did need to have an early afternoon nap, following my younger brother's lead when he and I finished our late morning television-viewing. My wife was up by then, so the bedroom was available.

My brother was gone for the afternoon when I emerged from my bedroom upon acquiring that bit of needed sleep.

No talk was ever made of the mortgage, so I must accept that no recompense is going to willingly be offered; and I will not deign to beg for any.

Thus, my weekend will be shopping-free. I will have to force myself to get out early on both Saturday and Sunday mornings ere the break of day to benefit from the exercise of a good, long walk, and not be out for any other purpose.

I'm unsure if I will find the motivation to do so on both early mornings. At least with a destination to perform some grocery shopping, I have justification and purpose. To force myself away simply for the purpose of walking a number of miles is not a simple matter for me anymore.

It is after 7 p.m. right now ─ I need to have myself a bath while I can still find the facilities available. And if my brother is not home by 8:30 p.m., I will have myself an early evening despite my wife's presence.

What a life.

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